


Omissions

by Miri1984



Series: A Wilde Week 2020 [7]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Japan Gap, M/M, Pining, Pre Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984
Summary: A Wilde Week 2020 Day 7: Truth | Lies | Omissions
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: A Wilde Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015986
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49
Collections: A Wilde Week 2020





	Omissions

Oscar Wilde has always been an introspective man. It would be foolish in the extreme, as a devoted student of sentient beings and their intricacies of society and relationships and emotions without first examining the intricacies and emotions of the sentient closest to hand.

It’s not always a pleasant experience, examining himself, but he is resigned to his flaws, having spent long enough of a time on the planet to be aware that no one person can ever be perfect.

He is not often surprised by himself, however, by his feelings or his motivations.

The end of the world, however, is enough to unbalance his perfect perception of self.

It starts shortly after he joins forces with Zolf Smith, searching out the cleric with the vague idea that he is the last bastion of stability in a world that no longer makes any sense. He doesn’t even know, when he begins to make enquiries of his new allies, that the former Ranger is now affiliated with the Harlequins. It registers as a dull kind of surprise, followed by resignation when Curie raises an eyebrow and tells him where Zolf has gone.

Things have changed, of course they have, and while Oscar braces himself for a faceful of water, or even a headbutt, all he gets from the dwarf is a tired but certain agreement. It shifts something in Oscar. “You’ll work with me?”

“The world’s gone to shit, Wilde,” he says. “I’m willing to work with you if you think you can fix it.”

He feels like perhaps, maybe he might have underestimated Zolf Smith.

As the months go on, he becomes sure of it.

They’re on the road, Zolf on a pony, Oscar on a horse. He hates horses. It’s not the kind of riding he’s good at, and the inside of his thighs and his entire arse hurts like fire and all he wants is a hot bath and maybe a sturdy dwarf to massage the tension out of his muscles with firm, wide… 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” 

Zolf looks almost as uncomfortable as Oscar feels, although he certainly seems more at ease. He’s used to it, Oscar reasons. He’s lived a hard life.

As though nothing Oscar has gone through has been hard at all.

“When did you learn to ride?” Oscar blurts.

“I’m fifty years old, Wilde,” Zolf says. “There’s only so many ways to get from place to place.”

Wilde says nothing, after that.

In Japan, they have to assign themselves quarters at the inn, and Zolf says without hesitation that he and Oscar should have adjoining rooms. “You’re determined to stay close to me,” Oscar teases, and Zolf just nods. 

“Gotta keep an eye on you, yeah,” he says and Oscar’s insides twist and he bites his lip on whatever witticism he was going to say next and he doesn’t look closely at how his heartbeat trips up as Zolf shrugs and smirks.

He’s always been an introspective man. But right now he hasn’t the courage.

“Well I hope you’re not a snorer, Mr Smith,” he says instead, waving a hand. “I am a  _ very _ light sleeper.”

Zolf is not, in fact, a snorer, but Oscar  _ is _ a very light sleeper, and he can, on the rare occasions he goes to bed before Zolf, hear him moving about in his room. He doesn’t know why each creak of a floorboard, each gentle click of a prosthetic, each soft pressure of a mattress being sat upon goes through his nerves like fire. He doesn’t know why having the dwarf so close is so anxiety inducing (and so comforting).

He does know that whenever Zolf is away on a mission, his room is unbearably quiet, and more often than not he will not go to bed at all.

“You’re doing it again,” Zolf says, months later, after an agonising week of Zolf and Barnes in quarantine after a mission gone mostly wrong.

“Doing what?”

“Starin’.”

Oscar blinks. He hasn’t even been aware that he’s been focused on Zolf as he moves about the kitchen, watching the movements of his hands, the curve of his biceps as he works.

Drinking him in, like fine wine.

_ Oscar has never been an introspective man. _

There are a million things he could say, at this moment, but he cannot imagine any of them being received well. 

“I suppose I missed you, Mr Smith,” Oscar says instead, and Zolf gives him a small smile, and for now that will have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> And we're done! First ever Wilde Week is in the bag. Thank you so much to folks who have read and commented and extra thanks to everyone who's taken part in the week, I'm so happy at all the beautiful fic and art that has been produced. This is an amazing, creative, supportive community and I love each and every one of you.


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